


Bauching

by Renne



Category: MASH (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-13
Updated: 2006-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1633256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renne/pseuds/Renne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for cher</p>
    </blockquote>





	Bauching

**Author's Note:**

> Written for cher

 

 

Trapper John followed Hawkeye into the Swamp. The man in front of him was weaving as he walked, well on his way to achieving heights of drunkenness only previously dreamed of and talked about in hushed whispers, with Trapper only a half-drink behind.

'Look, Hawk,' he said reasonably, 'I know what you're getting at, but why can't you just come out and ask like you do with everything else. You should know by now I'm not exactly gonna tell ya "no", am I? I mean, it's not like I got a headache or anything.'

Hawkeye threw his arms around Trapper dramatically. 'Oh, but Mr McIntyre, sir,' and his voice slipped somewhere into the vicinity of "Southern belle", 'it would be _awfully_ brazen of me to just come out and ask like that!'

Never one to pass up an opportunity, Trapper took advantage of what was presented. 'So instead ya just throw yourself at me like a brazen hussy.'

'Watch those hands, mister. You break it you buy it. And of course I do.' Hawkeye grinned. 'Would you want your hussy any other way?'

Trapper laughed and relinquished a handhold to reach for his glass. Hawkeye attempted with futility to intercept it. 'Hey, that's the last thing you need right now, Hawk.'

'Au contraire, good sir,' Hawkeye squinted at Trapper John. It was a decidedly unflattering expression. 'I'm not seeing nearly enough of you yet. Two of you aren't - isn't - aren't enough for the plans I've got for tonight.'

'Oh?'

'Mm,' and when Hawkeye's knees buckled Trapper carefully lowered him onto the edge of his cot. 'Ooh,' Hawkeye said and neatly liberated Trapper's near-empty glass. He swirled the liquid around. 'I'm - no,' he corrected himself, ' _we're_ going to debauch until our bauch is thoroughly de'd, and then maybe we'll bauch some more. You can never have enough bauching. Even though,' and he swayed even as he sat there, 'I'm feeling quite thoroughly bauched at the moment.'

'You _look_ quite thoroughly bauched too.'

'Good to hear. I'd hate to think all those martinis were going to waste. Pour me another to follow. Or to chase.' He stuck out the glass, and the liquid still in it slopped over the rim. 'Never mind, I've got one already!'

'So why me, Hawk?' It was the question Trapper asked every time Hawkeye's thoughts strayed that particular path. 'Not that I'm against bauching 'cause you know I'm not, but what's wrong with an evening bauching with that Nurse Sanders who had her eye on you in post-op all afternoon?'

'Oh, she was a pretty one,' Hawkeye said dreamily. 'Eyes like the sky and legs that went all the way up to her waist. I could have married her, you know. I would've if she'd smiled at me just one more time-'

'So what's wrong with her?'

Hawkeye slumped back on his bed. 'Nothing,' he said, and attempted to drain Trapper's glass. Most ran down his chin and the side of his face as Trapper rescued the glass for refill. Hawkeye pawed at the liquid on his face and then licked his fingertips. 'Some nights, some nights are good for something different.'

'Different?'

'You know what I mean.' Hawkeye waved a dismissive hand. He wasn't one for explaining himself at the best of times, least of all to Trapper who should already _know_ this.

'Why?'

Hawkeye made a vaguely irritated noise and stuck out his hand as he propped himself up on one elbow. 'You have to ask this every time, don't you, Trap?'

'Don't you know it,' and Trapper grinned with a hint of maliciousness as he passed over Hawkeye's glass.

'I'm too sober for this. You're going to insist?' Hawkeye asked, po-faced. 'Ahh... okay. Okay. Nurses are good  no, no,' he corrected himself again, 'nurses are _great_ , they're great like all things are great, all American things, like apple pie and... and... _apple pie_ and other great things that are American, and even the ones that aren't American are great - better even, like that Swedish nurse that time, Trap, have you ever seen hair so blonde? And natural too. She made Margaret look like... like dawn on a winter's day. And overcast winter's day. She was spectacular.'

As Hawkeye continued, Trapper mouthed "dawn on a winter's day" to himself then shrugged. Who knew what Hawkeye was on about at the best of times.

'So nurses are great, right? All soft and warm and they smell so good you could just eat them up with your mouth, but sometimes, sometimes there's more than that; a man needs a little something... something else.' Hawkeye's voice was rising as he built up a good head of steam. Trapper motioned for him to tone down and he did... for a moment.

Hawkeye gestured skyward with one finger. 'We're men, Trapper John McIntyre, and sometimes we men need that little extra extra. It's what makes us all man. Men. Manly men.'

'I think most fellas would probably disagree with that,' Trapper can't help but point out.

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. 'Courage under fire then. You think those kids coming here in jigsaw puzzle pieces don't do it?'

'Well, mostly probably not, no.'

'Gnngh!' Hawkeye fell back against his pillow, his martini glass dropping from his fingers to tink! softly on the floor, his arm draped over his eyes.

'Ya still with me, Hawk?' Trapper asked after a moment's silence, leaning forward to peer at his fellow surgeon. He sounded a mix of curious and disappointed.

'What do you want me to say?' Hawkeye suddenly burst out, waving his arms emphatically. 'Okay! I do it 'cause I like it and you know what? You don't seem to be too unhappy about it either!'

Trapper grinned and reached down to pick up Hawkeye's glass, carefully placing it next to the still. 'And _that's_ all I wanted to hear,' he said, shifting across to sit on the edge of Hawkeye's cot.

'Good. That means you should come down here and give us a kiss.' Hawkeye tugged on Trapper's sleeve and Trapper John obliged him. The cot was too narrow to be comfortable, but experience was a harsh mistress had taught them a few good ways of finding comfort in a confined space.

'Sex, Hawkeye,' Trapper said after a moment. 'It's always been the quickest way to sober you up.'

Hawkeye smirked and idly scratched his fingers up Trapper's back. At some stage between here and there Trapper's shirt had gone AWOL, and Hawkeye was contemplating sending that faded khaki t-shirt right along after it. 'Even the thought of sex sobers me up and believe me, I'm thinking about it.'

'You think about it all the time - you should never be drunk.'

'Maybe it depends on who I'm thinking about having it with.'

'Oh, you're good.'

'And don't I know it. C'mon Trap, it's time to dispense with the niceties. It's the middle of the night and all the kids are in bed... let's make hay while Ferretface is away in Tokyo. Who knows when we'll next get the chance?'

'Well. I have to say Frank's absence does make for a convincing argument. Shall we push the beds together then, ma?' Trapper grinned.

'Oh no, no, we couldn't do that. That's _far_ too domestic. That's what Margaret and Frank would be doing if they had the chance,' and Hawkeye grimaced at the thought. No one wanted to imagine what those two got up to together in their off time.

'Aw, no, God no, I can almost guarantee they don't do it like we do.'

Hawkeye grinned wolfishly. 'Almost?'

Trapper shrugged. 'You know what Frank's like. Who knows what kind of thing gets him going.' They shared a look and shuddered appropriately.

'Anyway, we couldn't 'cause the still's in the way,' Hawkeye pointed out.

'We'll stay here in your bed then. But I gotta say, Hawk, I'm still not sure I appreciate being the one you turn to every time you need something a little more "manly" though.'

'Oh Trapper,' Hawkeye said in a fond tone, threading his fingers through Trapper's curly hair. 'You know I love you.' He said the words with just enough wrong emphasis to turn the tone from sappy to lecherous.

'You're just saying that to get me in bed.'

'I'm just saying that 'cause you're _good_ in bed.'

'Well that's different then,' Trapper purred nudging his head up against Hawkeye's hands. As Trapper shifted over Hawkeye, Hawkeye's cot creaked threateningly. Trapper groaned. 'Oh, don't tell me...'

'Yeah. Forgot to mention: we should probably relocate.'

'I told ya not to tell me!'

'Oh, sure,' Hawkeye said, sliding his hands down Trapper's arms. 'You wanna tell Radar what happened to my cot then when he has to requisition another?'

'And do the little fellow's head in? Don't be silly.' Trapper ducked his head to sample Hawkeye's mouth again, and when he shifted - not entirely from discomfort and more to angle his body against the man under him just right - the cot creaked even more.

Hawkeye moistened already damp lips as he pushed Trapper off him. Trapper moved with obvious reluctance as Hawkeye said, 'How 'bout I go get the key to the linen room from Radar-'

'Thought you said all the kids were in bed?'

'Don't worry.' Hawkeye pushed himself to his feet. He was only weaving slightly now, but another drink went a ways to remedy that. After, it took Trapper's arm around his waist to keep him steady. 'He'll just think you're one of the nurses.'

'That's great. That's just great,' Trapper said. 'Why do I get to be the girl?'

'You've always said you've got the loveliest legs. And besides, it was your feminine charms that seduced me long ago.' Hawkeye wrapped his arms around Trapper's neck and fluttered his eyelashes. 'I'm completely smitten.'

'And you think _I'm_ the girl? Okay, okay, but I'm not gonna wear one of Klinger's dresses for you, no matter what you offer.'

Hawkeye leered at him. 'No? What a shame. I think that little red number he wore in the mess tent today would have just looked _darling_ on you, darling.'

'Keep looking at me like that and we're not gonna make the linen room...'

'Linen room? Who said anything about a linen room?'

Trapper laughed and hustled Hawkeye towards the door. 'Come on,' he said, 'before I forget what you said about your cot.'

'Oh to hell with what I said.' Hawkeye shoved back at Trapper, who stumbled back before falling heavily onto Hawkeye's cot. There was an ominous crack and Trapper froze, wide-eyed and expectant, but the cot stayed intact. Hawkeye, in his best - albeit drunken - attempt at being sexy, climbed over the prostrate Trapper.

'Radar'll cope.'

 


End file.
